Loving Jay Part 2

Jay was bent over, threading his feet into the legs of his jeans. He drew them up and stood briefly again to pull them up over his hips. I stared straight ahead, but saw a flash of red in my peripheral vision and knew that Jay's c.o.c.k was temptingly near my mouth again. He leaned back, b.u.t.toning and zipping in quick order and thankfully, he was once again covered.

"See!" he crowed. "All done and no one saw a thing!"

I choked on my tongue and turned red.

"What?" he asked me. "What's wrong?"

I tried to laugh it off. "I'm just trying to think who I would call if I needed to be bailed out. Which person could I tell I had been arrested for public indecency along with a gay man who had no pants on?"

Jay laughed as he unceremoniously stuffed the atrocious tartan pants in his bag. "So, did you decide who you would call?"

"My brother, Dale. He owes me."

"Yeah? What did you do for him?"

I smirked in Jay's direction. "I dated his wife."

He snorted. "What? You mean he didn't take out your daddy's shotgun and shoot you for it?"

"I know it sounds worse than it is, but you see, I dated Candice at university. We had three dates and then I had to attend my cousin's wedding, so I took her along. It was there she got to meet my whole family. Two weeks later, over a very nice piece of steak, she tells me she can't see me anymore because she is in love with my brother, and can she please have his phone number?"

It was Jay's turn to choke and spit as he tried to contain his laughter. "Obviously the story has a happy ending?"

I shrugged. "I guess it depends on your idea of bliss. Dale tells me he hasn't had s.e.x for over six months, but he is ecstatic with his one-month-old son."

The train entered the tunnel, taking us down under the city to our stop. "So was your heart broken?"

"Nah. I am just thankful I never took her to bed. Can you imagine the ick factor of knowing you'd once screwed your sister-in-law?"

But instead of laughing, Jay simply tilted his head, and surveyed me in a considering manner. "Really? Three dates-well, even more than that if you include the wedding-and you didn't manage to get into her pants?"

I was saved from answering by the announcement we were now at Perth Underground. I joined the surge of people rushing for the door. I guessed it was telling that Candice and I had dated without me even once trying to get her naked and in bed. But was I ready to reveal all and announce that I was gay? What would people say? What would my mum say? What would my boss say? Oh G.o.d, what would my dad and my brothers do?

Had I even thought about the consequences of being gay?

I followed the same path as yesterday, moving away from the crowd and to the escalator. I could feel Jay next to me, taking the long way just to keep me company. At the top of the escalator I paused off to the side. Would Jay come straight out with it? Would he just say, "Hey, are you gay?" And if he did, what would I say?

Those cows had spent so long out in the paddock they weren't quite ready to come home yet.

As much as I wanted to explore a physical relationship with Jay-a.s.suming he wanted to as well!-I just couldn't quite admit out loud I was gay.

I halted and looked up, expecting to see a knowing smile on Jay's face, but he looked like his normal self. "So...?"

He just shrugged. "See you tomorrow, yeah?"

I could've sobbed with relief. He wasn't going to say anything more on the subject. "Yeah. Tomorrow. Flat white, right?"

He made a moue of disgust at me. "If you want to see a big, flaming drag queen, hissy, sissy, melt down, you can bring me a flat white."

I chuckled. "No thanks. I'll just have to swallow my manly pride and order a skinny mocha."

"Thanks, Liam. See you tomorrow, then."

"Catchya later, Jay."

Chapter 3.

I MANAGED to order Jay's super-fussy drink without too much difficulty and the moans and sounds of appreciation coming from his mouth made it worth the loss of pride I'd experienced in ordering it.

It was a conundrum I'd struggled with for longer than I would admit to myself. If I had been meeting a woman, there would've been no shame in ordering the drink. But because it was for a slightly feminine male, there was a problem. What was the problem with Jay?

My two-somewhat bleh-s.e.xual encounters with other guys had been brief. Both men had been older than me and manly men. If I liked men so much, why didn't I like the big, buff bodybuilder types? Sure I liked them, they were nicely built and all. But they didn't keep me up at night. They didn't make me melt into a puddle of mush at the thought of bringing them into my bed. They didn't send shivers down my spine by just saying, "Thanks, man."

With Jay, I liked that he liked to be high maintenance. His fingernails were polished, his hair carefully styled, his makeup applied. He obviously spent time in the morning working on his appearance. I liked that. I liked that he did and I didn't. I didn't want to be like him at all, I was happy with my own casual appearance. But I liked that he was different.

And yet a carefully coiffed and polished woman hardly did a thing for me. It was extremely frustrating.

I'd done research on the Internet. I'd googled and found references to fairies, queens, gym rats, twinks, bears, daddies, and drags. I guess the best way to describe Jay was somewhere between a twink and a queen. He was tall, but slight framed and feminine, had great dress style (most of the time!), wore makeup, and smelled divine. But he wasn't a "flaming queen"-no sequins and glitter, no heels or skirts or feathers. He was just Jay.

So why did his, See you on Monday, man. My turn to get coffee make me wish the weekend would fly, and yet the sight of thirty-six sweaty men in tight white shorts on the football field get hardly a twitch out of my c.o.c.k. I appreciated the thirty-six pairs of b.u.t.tocks-okay, maybe only thirty-five because you don't perv on your own brother, do you?-but they didn't keep me up Sat.u.r.day night.

It was Jay, and his moans, and his "mmms," and his "ahhs" that did that. Twice. Not that I was counting.

Sunday I caught the 532 bus to my parents' house for our monthly Sunday Roast. John's car whizzed past me and tooted as I made my way up the hill to number twenty-eight. I waved and wasn't surprised to see John leaning against his car, waiting for me when I got to the top. My parents had downsized after John moved out, and were now living in a smaller, newer house. It had less garden for Mum to look after, but still had two spare bedrooms-for the grandkids, of course.

I puffed and leaned with John for a minute, rubbing my leg. It still wasn't good after that stupid run, and the hike up the hill was beneficial-although painful-therapy for it. John was a terrific brother, though. He didn't comment on it, just shot the breeze with me for a while, letting me recover. Finally, he said, "Shall we go in?"

I scoffed. "Safety in numbers and all that, huh?" John winked at me and led the way. Attendance at our family's Sunday Roast was strictly compulsory, only death or a stay in the hospital could get you out of it. If you had the flu you still had to turn up. If you were covered in a poison ivy rash you still had to turn up. If you were in jail you still had to turn up. And if you were married, engaged, or dating, you had to bring "the other half." No excuses. Ever.

For the past four years I'd pretty much borne the brunt of our mother's "so you didn't bring someone this month?" spiel. Our mother had given up on having a daughter after John came out without the required "girly" bits. Five boys, one after the other, with nary a v.a.g.i.n.a seen. She wasn't game to make it six. So she made it her mission to raise us to the point where we could bring home women so she could foster and fuss over our wives and daughters.

Dale had made a good start for her-married and with a newborn. Dale had hooked and managed to keep a wife for Mum to care for. He was a superstar because he had Candice, although I had brought her home first in that weekend between my cousin's wedding and the sorry-I-like-your-brother-better speech. But that was rarely mentioned in our family-it was embarra.s.sing to Candice and it wasn't my shining moment. So Candice was now a permanent fixture at the table and I am certain that if ever Dale and Candice split up, it would be Dale who would be uninvited to Sunday Roast.

Accordingly, we all joked that Dale was the favorite son because he had made her a grandmother first. Cameron came in a close second. He and Anita had been married for three years now. No babies, though, much to Mum's disappointment. Whenever she hinted in that direction, Cameron would just get a big, cheesy grin on his face and tell Mum that he was "having too much fun practicing for conception to worry about babies." Mum would turn purple and change the subject, every d.a.m.n time.

My oldest brother Ben was about to get married to Alison. The wedding was two months off and preparations were in full swing. With any luck, I would be able to distract Mum today by asking Alison for details. Mum would be transfixed.

So that just left John and me to get the "so you didn't bring someone this month?" speech. John had been immune for nearly a year, but recently he and Debbie had broken up, so he'd gotten to join me last month with the lecture, and by the looks of it, he would get it again this month.

John opened the front door and we made our way into the house. Laughter and chatter greeted us and I did the round of handshakes, back slaps, and kisses, greeting everyone and asking "how are you?" before heading for Mum. She was cuddling Dale's son, Isaac, who was sound asleep and tightly wrapped in a fluffy blue blanket. Mum held her arm out for me and I obligingly hugged her over the baby and kissed her cheek.

"Hi, Mum."

"Hi, sweetie. You didn't bring anyone with you this month?"

No subtlety-that's my mum. I swallowed a sigh and hid my grimace. "I brought John, Ma, didn't you see us walk in together?"

Cameron brought me a beer and placed it on the table in front of me. He spoke softly so only I would hear, "Just say 'no' and get it over with, mate."

I heard my dad mention something about football and Dale say something about renovations. I wished I could be on the other side of the room, talking to them instead of facing my mother.

She gave me a playful slap on my shoulder. "Devil-child. You know exactly what I mean, young man."

"I swear, Mum. I don't! Who do you want me to bring?" I could hear Alison talking of weddings. Even that conversation was infinitely preferable.

"A girl, silly!" John came up behind me and gave Mum a hug, too. "You need to pay attention to this, too, John."

John groaned but patiently waited for her oft-repeated discourse. I flashed my best little-boy grin. "Any girl, Mum? Do you have a preference? Blonde? Brunette? John and I can be on the lookout for her, then, just in case we see one that meets your approval."

Mum was fl.u.s.tered and waved her hand around as if she wanted to slap me across the back of my head. "Oh, go on with you! You know what I mean. Someone you like. Someone who likes you back."

I grinned and teased her. "What about Aaron, Mum? What if I bring Aaron? He likes me." Aaron had been my best friend since primary school. John snorted.

"If Liam gets to bring Aaron, I get to bring Rusty. My dog likes me. Is that good enough, Mum?"

She pointed her finger at John with a stern look. "That beast does not get to come within fifty meters of this house until he is better behaved! He dug up all my garden last time he was here!"

"Aw, Mum! It wasn't all your garden. It was one little hole, and I put the soil back, didn't I?"

"Still. He doesn't come." She narrowed her eyes in John's direction. "So have you met anyone new, yet?"

John groaned again and rolled his eyes as he slumped against the kitchen counter. "Mu-um. I've been single for just a couple of months. Let me get my breath before plunging me back into a relationship!"

Her laser eyes swung back to me. "And what about you, Liam? Have you met anyone you like?"

Jay.

For a horrified second I thought I let the name slip out loud. But thankfully no one reacted, so I hadn't. Still, his image floated in front of me-a tasteful image because I was in my father's house, after all. I could see Jay now, his barf-in-my-bag-awful tartan pants, his habitual head tilt as he considered something I said, his hair slicked back like an old movie star, his cute little diamond studs in his ear, his skinny-cafe-mocha-with-only-half-a-sugar-please.

I turned to hide my smile but mothers have eyes that see around corners. She gave a loud gasp. "Liam Gregory Turner. You have met someone! Dale, quick, grab him and bring him back here and make him tell me." Dale moved to intercept me and I rolled my eyes where my mother-hopefully-couldn't see before swinging to face her again.

"Mother! You're imagining things. I haven't met anyone." Liar.

Her eyes narrowed on me a.s.sessingly. "No?"

"No, Ma. No girl." That was a little easier to say. "Sorry to get your hopes up."

But mothers are obviously a lot more observant, or maybe mine is just more tenacious than I had antic.i.p.ated. She got all squinty-eyed and pursed her lips. I waited with trepidation-nothing nice ever came after her squinty-eyed, pursey-lipped look. When her voice came it was softer and kinder than I thought, but her words froze my innards and made my b.a.l.l.s curl up and want to die of embarra.s.sment.

"Liam, sweetie. If you come to me and tell me that the relationship you have with Aaron has progressed to more than just friendship, then that's okay. I'm okay with it. There will be no problem."

Horrified didn't begin to describe my feelings at that moment. Maybe if you took dismayed and wrapped it in a layer of appalled and panicked, then sprinkled it with shocked, disturbed, and alarmed. On the heels of that came disgust-me and Aaron! Oh, puke! Aaron had been my best friend for nearly twenty years. And he was definitely, 100 percent, not a doubt in anyone's mind, straight. He currently had a girlfriend plus another one on the side. But you didn't hear that from me.

"Mum! I'm not gay!" Liar, again. I surprised even myself at how brainwashed those cows had become. Unfortunately, my voice was a little bit too loud and now I had the attention of the room behind me. I needed a hole in the ground to hide in. Regrettably, the tiled surface of the living room gave no relief.

"Who's not gay?" That was Ben. I knew my oldest brother's voice without looking.

"Liam says he's not gay." I couldn't be sure but I think that was Alison.

"Who says Liam's gay?" Ben again.

"Huh? Liam's gay?" That sounded like Cameron, coming late to the party as usual.

Alison answered both of them. "Your mother says Liam's gay. Liam says he is not gay."

"Really?" Ben, again. Was he doubting me?

My father finally caught up with the conversation and barreled in, indignant and abrasive. "Of course Liam is not gay. No son of mine will be gay." Oh, whoops. I guess I'm not gay after all. Sorry, guys!

It was Dale from across the room who went to bat for me. Not that he knew he was actually defending me-I don't think so anyway. He just went in on principle. "Dad. You can't just say that. You have no ability to change the way any of us feel if we are gay."

"I don't care. I refuse to have a gay son, and that is the end of the story." Yeah. How many times had we heard that in our lives? Dad has made a ruling, end of story. Dad really should've been a judge instead of an engineer.

Dale answered him. "You have no say in it." I am pretty sure that if Dale ever owed me, he had just redeemed himself.

"You can't change a person's s.e.xual orientation, just like that." Candice, this time. I take back anything bad I said about her.

Dad bl.u.s.tered for a bit before he said, "Well, you may be right. If any son of mine is gay, then I can't stop him from being a f.a.g. But I can stop him from coming in this house."

A general hue went up about the word "f.a.g." I shouted over them. "But I'm not gay!" Was anyone listening to my lies?

"William, don't be such an idiot," cried Mum. "Of course all of our sons are welcome in our house at any time, gay or not." Thanks, Mum.

Faced with opposition from all sides, Dad went on the defensive. He had a big, broad chest and he crossed his arms and stood firm. An unmovable wall. "I will not let any f.a.ggot near my grandson. How can you say that you will? You never know what a f.a.ggot may do to him!"

Wow, Dad. How uneducated of you. How prejudicial. I was saved from answering by a wave of outpouring from my family.

"Dad!"

"What did you just say?"

"Oh, my G.o.d. He didn't say what I think he just said?"

"Isn't f.a.ggoting a form of lace work?"

"For heaven's sake! Just because a person is h.o.m.os.e.xual it does not make them a pedophile!"

It was Candice who stood out. "If Liam or any of my other brothers-in-law tell me that they are gay, it does not make one iota of difference as to how I feel about them. I would trust them 100 percent with my child."

Dad was looking from one person to another, unsure of his stance now. He looked as if his boat had just been rocked, overturned, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean. He was swimming adrift in a sea of sharks.